Hannibal Heyes' Rotten, Awful Day
by InsideOutlaw
Summary: Things don't turn out quite the way Heyes planned them.
1. Chapter 1

Grasshoppers leapt from the trail, rustling noisily as they landed in the dried grasses, but the horses plodded on. Tired, they kept their attention on the rocky path leading up a steep south-facing slope. Flies buzzed around their heads and one of the two laden mules swished its tail and kicked out angrily. Saddles and packs alike creaked softly, lulling the two men astride the horses. The day had grown steadily hotter despite its chilly beginnings and the men wore patches of sweat staining their shirts. A magpie flew across the trail twenty or thirty yards ahead of them, chattering loudly, alarming his flock in a nearby aspen grove.

The smaller rider dallied the lead to his pack mule around his saddle horn and freed up his hands to lift his hat and wipe his brow with a dirty bandana he fished from his pocket. His lank, blond hair was pasted to his skull and his jaws bulged with a large plug of tobacco. When he spoke, his words were muffled.

"Sure is hot for September, ain't it, Heyes?" A stream of tobacco spewed from Kyle's face and landed in the grass further terrifying the hoppers. He kept one eye on the broad back ahead of him; the other followed the path of his spit.

"Unh."

Hannibal Heyes was distracted thinking about last night's poker game. He'd had fun disguising himself as a greenhorn; wearing an old, frayed suit and horn-rimmed glasses. No one took him for a notorious outlaw leader and he'd been courted by every table in the gambling den once he'd pulled that wad of bills from his pocket.

Now that wad rested in his left saddlebag, having grown too large for a pocket. He'd been surprised that the evening had ended without any untidy incidents. Three of the men at his table had looked as though they were going to stir up trouble. Not that he'd been worried. He'd been packing his derringer and Kyle had lingered at the bar, keeping an eye on his boss like he'd promised the Kid he would do. No, the evening had passed without trouble.

"Heyes? You ain't fallin' asleep, are ya?"

"No, I'm not. I'm thinking."

"Oh. Good, I guess." Kyle was used to Heyes' thinking and knew not to ask any more questions. He un-dallied his mule, and rode on in silence. They weren't too far from the Devil's Hole gang's camp and would reach it well before nightfall. To amuse himself, he kept his eyes peeled for mushrooms along the side of the trail. He loved mushrooms.

The animals humped their backs and grunted as they shouldered their burdens up a particularly steep section of trail passing through a thick grove of trees. The aspens swayed gently as a sudden breeze arose and their brittle, golden leaves sighed softly, but the sturdy spruce and firs withstood the gust. Daylight was filtered here and a cool shadow crept over the small pack train, providing relief from the sun.

Heyes started to nod off; his late night beginning to be felt again. Kyle's eyes combed the ground for the curly, orange caps of the mushrooms he was seeking. They grew in the shady, high altitude forests. He couldn't remember what they were called. Gully'd told him once; shanty-somethings. He didn't notice the three men who emerged on foot from the small copse of spruce to their left.

"Hold it right there! Hands up nice and easy," warned a grizzled man with blackened teeth. The other two men stood slightly behind him, their guns drawn and aimed at their hearts.

Heyes jerked to attention at the sound of the man's voice. Fortunately, his hands were occupied with his horse's reins and the mule's lead, otherwise he might've made a reflexive reach for his gun. Instead he sat still, lifted his hands, and glared at the men before him.

Kyle nearly fell off his horse, both of them startled by the intrusion. He righted himself, steadied his beast, raised his hands, and waited calmly. He appeared slightly bored and unafraid, but he was simply waiting to see how Heyes wanted to handle this.

"My, my, lookie who it is boys!" sneered the first outlaw, gesturing to Heyes. The other two men looked baffled. "It's the rube with the run of luck from last night's game."

"Sure is, Will. Looks diff'rent, don't he?" said a shorter, long greasy-haired man, finally recognizing Heyes. The third man, no, boy; smiled and laughed.

"I guess your name ain't George neither. You know, mister, last night I was willin' to let my money go, figurin' you was a tenderfoot havin' a run of luck and some other fella could hang for killin' ya. I can see now that that weren't no run of luck, you look just like the cardsharp you is," said Will. His eyes took in the silver-trimmed hat band, the expensive cut of Heye's shirt, and came to rest on the strapped down, black leather, concha-embellished gun belt. "Lucky for you, I ain't no killer. Why, I'm just an honest man lookin' to right a wrong. Ain't that right, fellas?"

Laughter floated in the air, loud against the sounds of the forest. Heyes knew it was useless to try to sweet talk these three and he waited silently like a coiled rattler.

"Carl, get that little fella's gun. Hal, keep me covered," said Will, walking up to Heyes and reaching up. Dark, furious eyes drilled into him as he unbuckled the fancy gun belt. He laughed. "Don't feel as good gettin' robbed as it does robbin', does it? I'll take that hat, too, and empty your pockets."

Heyes glared at him, but eventually lifted the hat from his head and dropped it onto the dusty trail. He fished out the few dollars he had in his chest pocket along with his silver pocket watch. With a chuckle, Will took the cash and watch before he bent down and picked up the hat, knocking the dust off against his grimy pant leg. He took off his sweat-stained, misshapen felt bowler and tossed it to Carl, who caught it easily despite holding Kyle's gun belt in his left hand. Glancing up at the smaller man sitting above him, Carl decided he had no use for the soiled hat he wore. Instead, he walked over to Will.

Will's filthy grin belied his angry command, "Dismount!"

Without a word, Heyes and Kyle dismounted. Carl grabbed the reins to Heyes' sorrel mare and tied off the pack mule to the horse's saddle. He led the two animals away to where Kyle stood, his small mare standing obediently next to him, ground-tied. His mule had wandered a few steps away and was contentedly eating the dried grasses at its feet. Roughly, Carl snatched up the mule's lead causing it to balk and Carl to cuss. He tied the second mule to the pack of the first mule and then retrieved Kyle's mare.

"Well, I'd say we're even now," said Will. "Have a nice walk." He started to turn away, but froze at the chilling, baritone voice so unlike the twangy, nasal sounds he'd heard last night from the dark-haired man he'd just robbed.

"See you around, Will," said Heyes. The threat was unmistakable.

Will spun around. "You know, I plumb forgot that the boys could use some new boots. Why don't you two have a seat right there and pull yours off?" He gestured to a downed tree.

"You can't leave us out here on foot without water," protested Kyle as he sat down on the log next to Heyes.

"Sure I can," Will laughed. "'Sides, there's plenty of streams to drink from. If you get real lucky maybe you can find one the beavers ain't crapped in." He scooped up the discarded boots and tucked them all under his arm. Leaning close to Heyes, he dropped his friendly act and hissed out fetid breath. "I see you again, boy, I'll kill ya."

Heyes showed no fear. "Likewise."

Straightening, Will wondered if maybe he should kill them and be done with it, but he was only wanted for robbing, not a hanging offense, and he didn't want to do anything to change that. Who knew who might be waiting on these two and come looking for them? No, better to let them get to where they were going.

He and Carl took their prizes, loaded them onto the two mules, and mounted. Will and Carl drew and kept their guns trained on their victims while Hal fetched their own horses. Soon all that was left of them was the faint sound of their laughter wafting up from down the trail.

OOOOOOOOOO

"You were robbed?" exclaimed Kid Curry, standing over his partner. His agitation had grown as dusk had turned to darkness and there'd been no sign of Heyes or Kyle. He'd been ready to go out looking for them when he'd heard the sounds of someone approaching on foot.

Heyes sat by the fire examining his blistered feet. He and Kyle had straggled into camp a few minutes ago and, without a word, Heyes had gone to the Kid's saddlebags and pulled out the bottle of whiskey he'd known his partner had stashed there. He'd uncorked it with his teeth, taken a long slug of it, and he and the whiskey had settled by the warmth of the fire. It was going to be a cold night. He and Kyle had no bedrolls.

The Kid had taken one look at the two men emerging from the shadows and figured he'd get more out of Kyle than Heyes. He'd been right. Kyle had spilled the whole story in front of the entire gang who still clustered around him. Their laughter had yet to die down.

Curry waited, but his partner said nothing. He dropped down next to Heyes and reached for the bottle. "What happened?" he asked softly.

Furious brown eyes shot up to his. "You know what happened. It was just like Kyle said. Go ahead. Laugh."

"Heyes," the Kid said carefully, "I ain't laughin'. How'd those yahoots get the drop on you?"

Seeing no derision in Curry's eyes, Heyes' anger dissipated. "I don't know. I was tired."

"You can't be tired, Heyes, not if you want to keep breathin'. Dammit!" exploded the Kid, "I should've gone with you; this wouldn't have happened. I could've disguised myself. The sheriff wouldn't have recognized me."

"We couldn't risk it."

"We should've risked it. You know things always go wrong when we separate."

"I don't need a damned nursemaid!" shouted Heyes, drawing his gang's attention to him. He grabbed the bottle from the Kid's hand. "Leave me alone."

Curry stood up and walked over to the men who stood looking at their angry dark-haired leader. "All right, boys, show's over. Hank, Lobo, build us another fire over there. Preacher, if you still have that old deck of cards, now'd be a good time to pull it out. I got another bottle of whiskey I'll fetch. Wheat, Kyle's gonna need a saddle blanket or two for the night." The outlaws scurried off to do his bidding. They were soon settled down in front of a new fire and passed the evening quietly, each of them occasionally casting a glance in Heyes' direction.

The boys had taken the cancellation of the job pretty well considering the time and effort they'd all made with the preparations. Curry was grateful and generous with his whiskey. They kept their voices low, but Wheat couldn't resist having Kyle repeat his story several times. The soft sound of muted laughter filled the night.

Finally, the Kid looked over and saw that Heyes had passed out on his side, the empty bottle still clasped to his chest. He turned back to his gang. "Time to hit the sack, boys."

"How come? It ain't like we can pull the job tomorrow. We ain't got the gear," observed Lobo.

"It's time, 'cause I say it's time. Any arguments to that?" The Kid's face warned them. The outlaws reluctantly settled up their bets and shuffled off to retrieve their bedrolls.

Wheat laid a saddle blanket on the ground near the new fire and settled his open bedroll over him and Kyle.

The sleepy, little outlaw grumbled a thank you and rolled over.

Curry picked up his own bedroll and tossed it over Heyes, keeping the canvas fabric well away from the fire. He threw some more logs on the fire and settled down across the flames from his partner, his own saddle blanket clutched tightly around him. He felt chilled; but more by Kyle's story than by the night's coldness.

OOOOOOOOOO

When he woke, his partner was still crumpled in the position he'd last seen him. Curry stood up stiffly and threw another log on the fire, poking at it with a stick until the flames appeared. He walked over to each of his sleeping men and thumped their feet with his boot. "Rise and shine," he said to each man softly, adding, "and you'll be quiet about it if you know what's good for you."

By the time the morning's ablutions had been completed, and breakfast had been consumed, the Kid turned his attention to Heyes. Walking quietly over to the snoring lump, he gently shoved his partner's feet. Nothing. He reached down to push a shoulder, but was stopped short by the sound of Heyes' rasping, whiskey-soaked voice. "Touch me again and I'll kill you."

Grinning, Curry stood up. "C'mon, Heyes, time to get up. We gotta hit the trail."

"Go…away," growled the bedroll.

"Get a move on; it ain't safe for us to linger here."

No response.

The Kid glanced over his shoulder at his men. They were still tacking up their mounts, nearly ready to go. It was going to be a long, slow trip back to the Hole. Heyes and Kyle were going to have to double up with him and Wheat. He shook his head, discouraged. They'd all started out from home with big expectations. The job was going to be piece of cake according to Heyes. He, on the other hand, had been pensive ever since he'd heard those words slip from his partner's lips, 'What could go wrong?' Well, it had gone wrong, and there were lots of ways it could've gone a whole lot more wrong.

Making a decision, he walked back to the other fire ring and poured a mugful of the coffee from a pot that had been left to stay warm by the fire. He flinched slightly at the acrid odor that wafted from the mug. It smelled like it could peel paint from a wall; just the way Heyes liked it. He stood and carried the mug back over to his partner, setting it down on the ground far enough away that Heyes couldn't reach it without crawling out from under the bedroll but near enough for him to smell it.

Curry waited. He knew Heyes. First the bedroll shifted slightly then a hand appeared and clawed its way towards the coffee only to fall a couple of feet short of the enticing brew. A groan rose to his ears. He stood still. The covers moved again and a tousled head poked out. The effort was too much and the head flopped sideways into the dirt. One bloodshot eye, rolled open, and stared up at him, trying its damnedest to focus.

"Ugh. Hand me the mug," mewled Heyes pitifully.

"Get it yourself," said the Kid. Somehow, his partner managed to glare at him from his flattened point-of-view. He chuckled softly and waited.

With another groan, Heyes stretched out from under the bedroll and dragged himself to within reach of the coffee. Curry seized the bedroll and snatched it away just as Heyes' fist closed around the mug.

"Hey!" yelled Heyes before moaning at the sound of his own raised voice. Curry swept the bedroll away and rolled it up and secured it to the back of his saddled gelding. He kept his eye on Heyes who had dragged the coffee to his lips and was sipping it gingerly, still prone on the ground, his head only raised far enough to ingest the needed elixir. The Kid walked past him to the other fire ring and returned with the pot, re-filling Heyes' mug, and setting the pot down next to him.

The gang finished packing up, the two fires were extinguished, and the boys were mounted before Curry returned to stand over his partner. Heyes looked terrible. Bits of leaves were stuck in his hair and his face was worn and puffy, but he already looked better than he had and it was plain to see that his disposition was improving.

"You ready?" asked the Kid.

"For what?"

"To go home. What did you think?"

"I was thinking maybe you and I could hang around for a day or so. Maybe let Wheat take the boys home." Heyes didn't look at him as he spoke and Curry understood exactly what he was getting at.

"You want to go after those three?"

A small, nearly imperceptible nod from Heyes confirmed his intentions.

"Why?" asked the Kid.

Heyes looked up at him. The Kid found it almost painful looking into those mournful, red-streaked eyes. "They took my gun, my horse, my pride, and my hat. I've gotta go after them."

"No, you don't. You can buy another horse, hat, and gun. And you've got more pride than a man has need for."

"They took my watch, too. If I don't go after them, the boys will lose respect for me. I can't let that happen."

Curry hated it when Heyes was right. He sighed, and capitulated. "Let me go tell Wheat. Finish up that coffee. You're gonna need it."

"Thanks."

Taking pity on his battered friend, the Kid smiled, "Hey, what are partners for?"


	2. Chapter 2

Heyes watched listlessly as the hind end of Lobo's horse disappeared into the forest. His gaze shifted to his partner who was leading his horse and the Preacher's gelding up from where the horses had been high-lined last night. Preacher had offered his horse and gear to Heyes, had made no smart remarks, or jokes about the circumstances, and Heyes had gratefully accepted. His somewhat pious friend had cheerfully doubled up with Hank for the long ride back to the Hole.

"You ready?" Kid Curry tightened the cinches on the horses as he waited for an answer.

"As I'll ever be," said Heyes, rising to his feet and knocking the dust off his woolen pants. He reached down and picked up the light tan Stetson Wheat had left him. It was a generous loan; almost as much as the horse. Riding bareheaded could be damned uncomfortable. For all his gruffness and insubordination, Wheat could always be relied on to step up and help out when the chips were down. Heyes figured that's why he kept him around.

Putting the hat on his aching head, Heyes instantly felt better with the shade it provided. He'd done some real damage to himself last night and in the light of day he'd felt sheepish for losing his self-control. Not that his men would hold it against him; every last one of them had done the same at one time or another. It was just that, being leader, he liked to hold himself to a higher standard. He'd let those standards slip because of his temper and he was paying the price. Shuffling over to the horses, he slowly and carefully mounted the sturdy roan gelding.

Curry jumped into his saddle. "Which way do you think they went?" he asked with a smile.

"They were headed north along that cut over Robson's Ridge."

Without a further word, the Kid nudged his horse and ambled in the direction of the ridge. Unless the thieves had stopped early for the night, there wasn't much chance of catching up to them today. That was just as well. He hated to think what Heyes would do to them in the midst of a vicious hangover.

By mid-morning they'd crested the ridge and had seen only the day-old tracks of the three robbers. The valley that stretched before them was blanketed in meadow grass, bisected with a small creek, and dotted with Gambel oaks and Mountain Mahogany. The horses quietly followed the trail of trampled grass winding through the shrubs and nibbled at the taller weeds tickling their noses.

The Kid glanced at his partner who hadn't said a word all morning. If that wasn't an indication of how Heyes was feeling, he didn't know what was. The normally loquacious man was pale-faced and grim. Another hour passed and Curry started getting bored with the silence. He began softly humming 'Sweet Betsy From Pike' and it wasn't long before he was belting out the words:

_Did you ever hear tell of Sweet Betsy from Pike,_

_Who crossed the wide mountains with her lover Ike,_

_Two yoke of cattle, a large yeller dog,_

_A tall Shanghai rooster, and a one-spotted hog._

_Singing too-ra-li-oo-ra-li-oo-ra-li-ay._

"You ain't planning on singing all fourteen stanzas, are you?" Heyes finally grumbled when the Kid paused to draw another deep breath.

"Why not? You ain't much company today." Curry grinned at his partner's frown, inhaled, and continued to sing:

_They swam the wide rivers and crossed the tall peaks,_

_And camped on the prairie for weeks upon weeks._

_Starvation and cholera, hard work and slaughter-_

_They reached California 'spite of hell and high water._

"Kid, you're killing me here," whined Heyes.

"Nope, you did that all on your own."

_One evening quite early they camped on the Platte,_

_Twas near by the road on a green shady flat._

_Betsy, sore-footed, lay down to repose-_

_With wonder Ike gazed on that Pike County rose._

"What do I have to do to make you stop?" Heyes asked with no real bite to his words. He was grateful for his partner's support. It was going to take some doing to catch Will and his men, but he was bound and determined to do it. There was no way he could ride back into the Hole until he did.

Curry smiled at him. "I can't believe I'm sayin' this, Heyes, but you ridin' along all quiet-like is unnervin'. How 'bout you try joinin' in and fillin' the gaps?"

_The Injuns came down in a thundering horde,_

_And Betsy was scared they would scalp her adored._

_So under the wagon-bed Betsy did crawl_

_And she fought off the Injuns with musket and ball._

Despite his pounding headache, Heyes began softly humming along. Strangely enough, he began to feel better and, by the seventh stanza, his baritone was blending in nicely. He felt his spirits lifting along with his voice.

With Heyes singing along, the Kid figured the worst was behind them and he urged his horse to pick up the pace. He wanted to close the gap with their quarry as quick as he could and molly-coddling Heyes wasn't going to do that.

By mid-afternoon, the greenheads were out and pestering both horse and rider. Both men swatted at the biting flies and the horses swished their tails and tossed their heads. The mood soured quickly and, as an effort to resurrect it, the Kid tried some conversation. "I wonder where they're headed."

"Could be Fort Steele or Medicine Bow; ain't much else out this way. We'll know when we get to the fork."

"Damn these flies!" said Curry, frowning. "I sure hope it ain't Fort Steele. All those soldiers give me the creeps."

Heyes smacked his own neck. "Yeah, me too, but the gambling's awful good with all those bluecoats milling around looking for fun."

"You've got a point, but I don't fancy runnin' into the law in Medicine Bow. Last time, we barely got outta town." The Kid rubbed a welt that was rising on his gun hand.

"Don't worry about it. I ain't planning on letting them get close enough to a poker tables to lose my money. We'll catch up with them before dark." Heyes slapped his leg. The cursed flies were biting right through the fabric.

"I sure hope so. I want to be done with this," mumbled Curry, scratching at an itching bite on his back.

A breeze came up and the insects disappeared. After being tormented, their absence made Heyes feel better, and he chattered along about everything and nothing. The Kid let his partner's words pour over him and enjoyed not having to contribute to the one-sided conversation. Instead, he chewed on some jerky and kept his eye on the churned-up trail. When they reached the fork in the trail, he followed the hoof prints that turned to the left. Fort Steele it was unless they managed to catch them before nightfall. He pulled his gun from his holster, checked the chambers, sighted down it, and returned it to rest on his hip. Heyes had given him a rundown on the three men and the Kid didn't think they'd have much trouble ambushing them. Will sounded like the brains of the operation; the other two would probably give up easily enough if they could catch him out.

Cresting a rise, they saw that the ground leveled out and opened into a broad valley. As they worked their way down the trail, they saw a flash of light mid-way up the next hillside. Something metal had caught the sunlight and reflected it. Both outlaws kept their eyes trained in the direction where they had seen the flash and it wasn't long before they saw it again further up the peak. The Kid pulled up and retrieved a pair of binoculars from his saddlebags. He focused them carefully and three riders appeared in his field of vision. They were winding their way up a steep trail, single-file.

"Got 'em," said the Kid, happily.

Heyes urged his horse into a rolling, ground-covering lope and Curry trailed behind him keeping sight of the bandits. They lost them as the three men dropped down the other side, but they knew they were gaining on them. The Kid slowed his horse to a jog and started up the winding trail. Mid-way up the horses began to walk, picking their way across an open scree field that cascaded across the trail. It was slow, hard going for both man and beast, and all four pairs of eyes were glued to the shifting, hard-to-follow path.

None of them saw the rifle barrel that peeked out from behind a cluster of rocks at the top of the hill until the sharp report thundered past them taking Wheat's hat clear off Heyes' head and sending both men diving for the rocky ground. Heyes landed on his hands and knees, quickly clearing his holster and returning fire. The Kid slid several feet down the hillside trying to get purchase on the small, sharp stones. By the time he managed to draw, the shooting had stopped and Heyes on his feet, holstering his gun.

"They're gone." Heyes picked at his raw, bleeding hands.

"Are you sure?" The Kid was still flat on his stomach, his gun trained on where he'd seen the shot originate.

"Of course, I'm sure," snapped Heyes. "I'm standing here in the open. They'd still be shooting at me if they were still there."

The Kid sat up and holstered his own gun.

Picking up Wheat's hat, Heyes poked a finger through the new hole in it. He heard his partner start to laugh and he looked up sharply. "You think getting shot at is funny?"

"Nope, but that was."

"Are you nuts?"

"If they'd wanted to kill us, they would've," said the Kid, getting to his feet. "I really thought they were going to. There was a second there when my life flashed before my eyes. You know what I saw?"

Heyes looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "I can't believe you had time to think of anything."

"I thought about that time we scared those two cowboys down Wichita way by tossing those firecrackers in the barrel; taught them not to hassle a couple of kids." The Kid walked towards his horse.

Heyes smiled at the memory and started to chuckle. "I guess we might've looked something like them just now." He walked over to his own horse. Small, sharp stones jabbed painfully at his bare feet. He picked up the horse's reins, stroking the frightened, quivering animal. If it weren't for the slippery slope, he was sure the animals would have taken off.

"We sure did, Heyes, only we didn't have an audience to laugh at us like they did." The Kid remounted and waited for his partner to swing into his saddle. "Remember how pissed they were? Those two chased us clear to Dodge City before we shook them."

Heyes stepped up onto the roan. "I ain't letting these three shake us."

The smile slipped from Curry's face. "Nope. Me neither. It was one thing when they made a fool of you, but making a fool outta me is gettin' personal."

"Always good to know you've got my best interests at heart, partner."

Upon cautiously reaching the top, they saw that the riders had all but vanished again. Only an occasional hoof print was visible on the rocky trail winding down off the ridge. They rode on in a tense silence knowing that the three men could be waiting for them around the next bend. The path wound downhill for another mile or so, crossing several open spaces, but there was no further gunfire. The two partners began to relax.

They rode on as quickly as they could, but they'd lost a lot of time. There were few stretches of good footing and they loped and jogged where they could, but failed to catch sight of the men again. The sun was starting to dip down in the sky and the shadows were growing longer and paler against the ground. The Kid could feel his muscles stiffening up and he rolled his shoulders. It wouldn't do to be too sore to draw.

Heyes' headache had returned with a vengeance and he was feeling more irritated by the second. Old Will had a lot to answer for. He let his imagination run wild with all sorts of ways of evening up the score with those three lowlifes.

It was getting late in the day when he pulled ahead of the Kid as they dropped down into some boggy bottomland. The trail got muddier and narrower, the vegetation got taller. Soon they were ducking whip-like branches every step or two and leaning over the sides of their saddles. The Kid looped his reins around his horn, trusting his gelding to follow the path, and began using both his hands to fend off the stinging lashes of the willows as they snapped back from Heyes' passage.

The third time his face was struck with a stinging blow, he snapped, "What the hell did they come through here for?" At that exact moment, Heyes' horse stumbled over something in the trail. A rush of sound foretold the heavy branch that swung around and swept the dark-haired partner from the saddle. Curry's horse reared in fear of an unexpected predator, dumped him in the muck, and the two thoroughly spooked horses retreated up the trail at a gallop. The Kid swilled around in the mud until he could sit up and wipe it from his eyes. Heyes was slowly getting to his feet but he was bent over and gasping for air.

"Heyes, are you all right?"

"I'm…fine…I think." He was still dazed by his fall.

The Kid got up slowly and took a few steps towards Heyes and fell heavily to the ground again. He flailed around in the mud, grabbing huge handfuls of the oozing soil and cursing loudly, "%#$!, they booby-trapped the trail!"

Heyes started laughing at the filthy, indignant look on his partner's face, but the Kid failed to see the humor and glared at him. "Kid, the look on your face," more guffaws and gasps followed, "you should see…"

"It ain't funny, Heyes," said Curry getting to his feet again.

"Yes, it is."

"Oh yeah? Is it as funny as the great Hannibal Heyes gettin' near stripped nekkid by a bunch of saddle tramps?"

Heyes stopped laughing and struggled out of the dirt. "Ain't no call to get proddy, Kid."

"Oh, I think there is," said Curry. "You know, I'm beginnin' to look forward to meetin' up with this Will character."

"You and me both, partner."

It took a good long while to backtrack and round up the horses, but they finally began to make some forward progress. By the time night fell, Curry could tell by the tracks that they were getting nearer to the three men who had so humiliated them both. They pulled up for the night alongside an escarpment and settled the horses in a cluster of cottonwoods. Since morning, they'd dropped down a few thousand feet in elevation and it wouldn't be long before they neared civilization.

Heyes built a small fire and they ate a dinner of beans warmed in the can. The heat of the flames hardened their caked clothes and before they bedded down early for the night they tried to knock the worst of it off each other. It was a lost cause. Sore, stiff-clothed and dirty, they crawled into their bedrolls.

Curry spoke into the darkness. "We better catch up with them real quick, Heyes. I can't take another day like this one."


	3. Chapter 3

Swirls of coffee grounds floating in the mug he grasped in his hands held the Kid's interest as his partner droned on, reviewing and rejecting numerous ways to chase down Will and his friends. The verbal barrage had begun just after sunrise and Curry had just about had his fill of it. "I've been thinkin', Heyes."

Hannibal Heyes paused his pacing back and forth in front of the fire ring. His bare feet were filthy and caked with mud from the past two days. The Kid smiled at the sight of them, knowing that his partner was a bit of a dandy and liked to cut a dashing figure; weren't nothing dashing about Heyes right now.

"I thought we had an agreement about that, Kid."

"We do, but you ain't doin' so good with it so I felt like I had to step in." Curry stood up and drained his mug in one gulp. It was the best way to drink Heyes' coffee. He put down the tin utensil on a flat rock. "I'm thinkin' Will's a pretty smart man, maybe even as smart as you."

"Just because he ambushed us, don't make him smart…"

"Now hold up and let me finish. You need to put aside that pride of yours and admit that you might just be underestimatin' the man. Will knows we're followin' him and he's doin' everything in his power to slow us down or put us off his trail, but it ain't workin'. By now, he's beginnin' to realize we ain't gonna give up and he might have to get a bit more aggressive. If we keep on, we could be walking right into a gunfight and I don't think you want that any more than I do."

"Don't you think I know that?! Why do you think I've been wearing a groove in the ground? If we run him down, he's going to fight and we can't go round these mountains and head him off, not without losing a day or more. He'd be in town by then."

"Yep, he would."

"I don't want him to get to Fort Steele. He'll lose my money at the poker tables," said Heyes.

"Nope, don't want that."

"Are you planning on saying anything remotely helpful?"

"I am."

"So say it."

"We haven't gotten close enough to see them clearly in the field glasses so that means they also can't be sure who's on their tail. Most they could know is that there're two riders followin' them."

Heyes looked blank for second, and then a slow, pleased smile crossed his features. "They won't recognize you."

"Now you're thinkin', partner."

"But they might recognize your horse. You'll have to go in on foot."

"That's what I thought."

"You can follow them into Fort Steele and I'll trail along a mile or so behind you."

"Hold on a minute!" protested Curry. "I wasn't volunteerin' to wander into a passel of bluebellies. I was thinkin' more along the lines of catchin' up to Will and strikin' up a conversation while you get the drop on him."

"Too risky. Will's too smart to accept a man on foot showing up in the middle of nowhere."

"So Will's smart now, huh?" smirked the Kid.

"Of course he's smart, I never said he wasn't."

"Just not as smart as you, right?"

Heyes smiled. "Right. Look, follow them into town, buy them some beers, lose a few hands of poker, and find out where they're staying. Tail them if you have to. Then we'll pay them a visit and straighten things out."

"You want me to lose my money? Don't you think you givin' them all of yours was enough?"

"Are you gonna help me or are you planning to stand there all day pretending to be funny?"

Curry could tell by the gleam in Heyes's eyes that he'd settled on his plan and was bound and determined to see it through. He had to admit it made sense. Sighing, he capitulated. "All right, we'll play it your way, but you better be watchin' my back the whole time."

"I will be, and I'll make sure no one sees me." Heyes smiled. "Oh, and I'll need some cash."

"What for?" The Kid reached into his pocket and pulled out his wad of bills.

"Just in case you lose your last nickel tonight."

OOOOOOOOOO

Pushing open the glass-paned door, Curry stepped into the busy saloon. He'd only walked from just outside of town, but his stacked-heeled ropers were already rubbing his feet and souring his mood. The sight of a roomful of drunken soldiers did nothing to improve it. Geez, he hated Heyes' plans.

Heyes would be along soon. He was disguising himself as a panhandler and had gone off to the seedy side of town to steal suitable clothing from some poor man's laundry line. His partner had figured out a long time ago that most folks turned away from beggars and drunks, hurrying past them quickly, and averting their eyes from the less fortunate. Heyes would take up position outside the saloon. It wasn't unusual to find a man down on his luck sitting outside a saloon hoping for a generous stranger to share his poker winnings.

Pushing his way through a knot of sweaty, inebriated men, Curry bellied up to the bar and ordered a beer. The saloon was far nicer than he had expected. The last time he and Heyes had ridden through Fort Steele the saloon had been housed in a canvas tent, the bar top had consisted of oak planks stretched between two barrels, and the only thing served was white lightnin' in dirty, re-used bottles. He lifted his beer and turned his back to the bar, surveying the room. The wood-framed building was high-ceilinged for the summer heat with the bar running the length of the longest wall and tables scattered about the open space.

The tables were filled to capacity and none of the clientele even remotely resembled Heyes's descriptions of Will and his friends. That suited the Kid just fine. Maybe he'd be able to talk his partner into dropping this idea and letting him buy him a new hat and boots.

The glass-paned door swung open again and three men walked in. The last man through the door sported a black, silver-trimmed Stetson that the Kid immediately recognized. Seeing Will sporting Heyes' hat, boots, and holster reminded Curry of how easily this could've turned out different.

A foursome at one of the tables threw their cards down and cashed out so the Kid hurried over, pulled out a chair, and sat as one of the soldiers approached him and asked to join him. He turned the man away feigning a southern accent. No further explanation was needed; anyone with a blue uniform was used to being shunned by sullen ex-Johnny Rebs. A few of the other cavalry soldiers eyed him, and one spit in his direction but Curry ignored him. He let his gaze drift over to Will and his two men. The Kid withdrew a deck of cards from his jacket and started shuffling.

Will picked up a bottle of whiskey off the bar and spotted the nearly empty table. With a slight nod to the seats across from him, Curry sat back and watched as the three men sauntered over and sat down. Will tipped the infamous black hat. "Much obliged, Mister, seems like there's a shortage of seats. Whiskey?"

"Thanks." The Kid bridged the deck.

"Looks like you might be a player. How 'bout a friendly game of five-card draw?"

Curry smiled. "You boys think you can afford to lose to me?"

Will smiled back. "You sound pretty sure of yourself. What's your name?"

"It's Mark Clemens," said the Kid, pleased that Heyes wasn't here giving him some outlandish alias. "Who am I talkin' to?"

"I'm Will, that there's Carl and young Hal. All right then. Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, why don't we git down to some poker?" Will pulled off the black hat and set it on the table next to his whiskey glass.

The Kid glanced at it. "Nice hat."

"Thanks, kinda like it myself." Will caught a passing barmaid, snatched a fourth glass from her tray, and grinned. His blackened teeth gave him a ghastly smile.

Curry dealt out four hands. He picked up his cards, arranging them carefully before glancing out the front window. A dark-haired man in a raggedy brown coat was sitting next to the steps. Heyes smiled as a passing cowboy dropped a coin into the upended hat he held out. At least one of them would end the evening with some cash.

The four men settled down to play, drink, and smoke. The Kid found them all friendly enough and, under other circumstances, he might've enjoyed their company. Will was a tobacco chewer just like Kyle only his aim was much worse and he managed to hit the spittoon next to his chair about two out of every five attempts. A darkened stain was spreading across the planked floor under his feet. Carl and Hal were terrible players and the Kid had no problem reading them as easily as opened books, but Will was a different story. He had a constant feral gleam in his eyes and it never changed whether the cards were good or bad. It was as though he had a deep-seated belief he'd win in the end and whatever happened between now and then was of no mind.

Will spun a yarn about being out-of-work cowboys, but Heyes's tied-down gunbelt on his hip told another story. In turn, the Kid said that he was a lineman for the Union Pacific. Neither bought the other's story but a détente was reached. By the time the whiskey had been finished off, he could tell that Hal and Carl were well on the way to being drunk. Will was still hard to read, but his eyes had taken on a softer, more watery look to them so Curry ordered another bottle, eased up on his own drinking, and settled down to try to pry information from his opponents.

Outside the saloon, Heyes stood up and stretched. His back was aching from sitting on the wooden sidewalk and he was getting antsy. He looked in the window, but failed to catch the Kid's eye. Scratching his side, he looked up and down the street. Stores had closed as the sun had set and now the sidewalks had emptied. He scratched again, and found himself wondering if the clothes he'd stolen had lice in them. At least he'd had some luck today: he'd found a pair of broken-down, muddy shoes outside the back door of the house he'd stolen the coat from and they'd fit well enough. He hoped the owner would find the five dollars he'd left for him. Yawning, he settled back down and pretended to doze off.

The soldier the Kid had turned away earlier spent the evening drinking heavily and regaling his friends with war stories. The more stories he told and the more whiskey he drank, the more the line between then and now blurred. All the fear and resentment he'd felt during the war came flooding back to him and he worked himself into a righteous anger at being rudely dismissed by a filthy cotton farmer. He declared his intention to teach the Southie a lesson and shrugged off his friends' attempts at restraining him. Staggering across the room, he lurched to a stop in front of the Kid and mumbled a confusing challenge. Curry ignored him and continued his play, but Will put down his cards and stared at the man as if he was something dirty he'd found on the bottom of his boots. "You're disruptin' my game, boy. You'd best get the hell out of here before I put a hurt on you," growled Will.

"Butt out, Mister. I ain't got no squabble with you," slurred the soldier.

The Kid looked up at him and smiled. "You're drunk. Go back to your barracks and sleep it off. You'll be glad you did."

"Why you sack o'…." Furious, the man reached for his sidearm as the table tipped over and he heard the loud report of a shot echoing in his ears. Reflexively his hand grappled at his side, searching for the gun that was no longer hanging there. He looked down at the cleanly-severed holstered and looked up again, staring stupidly at the blue-eyed man before him. He saw his death staring back.

The Kid stood up and the soldier shrank back. "Go on now, get some sleep. Ain't no reason to die tonight."

The man gulped and nodded. His friends came forward pulled him away without protest.

The bartender, shotgun in hand, came over and told them all to leave.

Heyes had jumped up at the sound of a gunshot and was staring through the window at the scene that had just unfolded when the soldiers burst out the door. Seeing that his partner was fine, he sank back down on his heels, his head dropping, and saw Curry's scuffed brown boots go by.

"Dang it all to hell, Mark, that was some fancy shootin'! How'd you learn to shoot like that?" asked Hal. "I ain't seen no one who could shoot like that."

"Me neither," said Carl quietly. His newfound friend had just become a frightening stranger. He stepped around the disheveled beggar and strode into the dusty street.

Will said nothing at all, but he was thinking hard. Clemens was obviously a gunnie and he could use a man like that. "Say, Mark, why don't you come with us and finish the game? We're usin' an abandoned shack just a short walk north of town. I'll give you a sportin' chance to win some of your money back." Unconsciously, he reached into his pocket and dropped a handful of change into the battered hat lying next to the bum on the sidewalk and followed the Kid, staring at his broad back.

"I guess I'll take you up on that offer," Curry said affably, "since I can't afford a hotel room anymore."

OOOOOOOOOO

Heyes had seen the Kid walk out of town with the three men so the cabin had to be very close. He waited a while and followed them. The moon was nearing full and it cast a soft light on the dirt road they'd taken. Staying just inside the trees, he blended in with the darkness of the forest.

He occasionally heard the rustlings of some small creature scuttling through the dried leaves, but he couldn't see very far. Branches swung with the wind that had kicked up after dark and cast shadows that swayed and danced around him. A movement to his left startled him and he turned his head towards it failing to see the low-hanging limb that caught him in the forehead and staggered him. Grabbing his head, he cursed under his breath before hearing a soft buzzing in his ears. He looked up at the branch bobbing up and down and saw a large hornet's nest hanging from it. Giving silent thanks that it was nighttime and the insects were mostly dormant, he side-stepped around the tree carefully.

Finally, he saw a faint glow of light through the forest and cut away from the road towards it. Moving forward slowly and cautiously, he stopped within twenty yards of an old, derelict cabin. The structure was in sad shape. The porch sagged and the windows were broken, but the roof looked solid. Heyes saw his and Kyle's horses and mules standing quietly alongside three other horses in a makeshift corral. He could hear someone talking, but he couldn't see anything from where he stood so he crept around the edge of the clearing until he could see inside the shack. The Kid was seated across from the window, a deck of cards in his hand. He had a small pile of coins in front of him. An oil lamp sat next to his left arm, its wick turned low. Will had his back to Heyes and a much larger pile of money by his right hand. Carl and Hal had gone to sleep and Carl was snoring loudly.

As though he felt his partner's gaze, Kid Curry looked up and stared straight at Heyes then stood and stretched, lifting his arms over his head and revealing his lack of a firearm.

Damn! They hadn't planned on having the Kid on the inside and now he was; unarmed. Will was no fool, that's for sure. He had liked the Kid well enough but he'd been too darn smart to let a fox into his henhouse. He'd taken Curry's gun off him. Heyes rubbed his chin and considered his options. He couldn't risk barging into the cabin. He might get the drop on Will, but he had no idea if Carl and Hal had gone to bed with their guns nearby. He wouldn't take that chance.

"So, Mark, you give joinin' us any more thought?" said Will.

Curry assumed that declining the invitation might prove fatal. "I'll ride along with you."

"Good. That's settled then," said Will, laying down his cards. "I call, pair of jacks and a pair of threes."

The Kid folded his cards face down on the deck.

"I'm also callin' it a night. See you in the mornin'." Will stood up and stuffed his winnings into his shirt pocket.

"Think I'll take a leak before I turn in," said the Kid, rising.

He stopped in front of a bush and relieved himself. Buttoning up, he saw Heyes lean out from behind a tree and wave to him to join him. He shook his head no, pointing to where his gun should be hanging from his hip. He wasn't about to leave his customized Colt behind. Let Heyes figure out the next move, he was the one who started this whole mess. The Kid walked back to the cabin with a smile on his face.

A smothered, frustrated growl nearly escaped from Heyes' throat as he watched his partner walking away. What was he going to do now? And just like that, he knew. Too bad if the Kid didn't like it.

OOOOOOOO

As the sun was starting to come up, Hannibal Heyes sidled up to the broken-out window on the east side of the cabin. Bundled under his arm was the raggedy coat he'd been wearing. He'd located the nest while the hornets were still sleeping and had wrapped it tightly in the old fabric. Cutting it off and removing it from the branch had been easy. Returning to the cabin without awakening the insects had been harder. He could hear an angry, muffled buzz.

With a dimpled, delinquent's grin, he popped up and shook open the coat through the window. The nest dropped out, hitting the floor with a light bounce. The buzzing grew louder and Heyes ducked back down and ran for the cover of the trees.

Will twitched as a hornet landed on his neck and he sleepily brushed his hand against the intruder which retaliated by stinging him repeatedly. He sat up howling. Grabbing his hat, he swatted at his clothes, further antagonizing the emerging hornets. The Kid's woke, saw the gray shape on the floor, cursed out loud, and followed Will out the door. Carl screamed and Hal started yelling before racing out of the cabin a few seconds later. All four men stared back into the shack in stunned disbelief, their jaws hanging open, and their hearts pounding.

"Mornin', Will," said a baritone voice behind them.

Will and his two men spun on their heels and Curry swiftly lifted Carl's gun from his holster, jammed it into the man's back, and angrily growled at his partner. "Really, a hornet's nest? That's the best you could come up with?"

Heyes caught the gun tossed to him and shrugged. He was smiling from ear to ear as he reached up and snatched his hat off Will and dropped it onto his own head. "Take off the holster and the boots."

Will unbuckled the gun belt and held it out to Heyes who took it and slung it over one shoulder. He then sat down in the dirt and pulled off the boots shoving them towards the gloating man.

"You gonna kill us?" Carl asked uncertainly.

"What do you think I should do with you?" questioned Heyes, digging into Will's pockets. Heyes found his silver watch and cash. He tucked them both into a pants pocket.

"We let you go, Mister," said Hal.

"Yes, you did, but that was your mistake, wasn't it?" Heyes was watching Will. The man stared evenly back at him, not really afraid, accepting of the situation. "What would you do, Will?"

Will smiled tightly. "Well, I reckon you already know what I'd do. I ain't no killer. If'n I was, you'd be dead right now and I'd still be wearin' that fancy hat of yours. I'd plenty of chances to kill you."

Heyes laughed and holstered his gun. "You're right. Tell you what, why don't we go back inside the cabin and light us a nice, smoky fire? Get rid of the rest of them hornets. I'm guessing you've got some coffee in there, don't you? I'd surely love a cup of coffee." Will stared at Heyes like he was a lunatic and allowed himself to be led into the cabin. The Kid gestured for Carl and Hal to follow.

A short time later, the five men were seated at the rickety table, steaming cups of coffee in front of each of them, the Kid's Colt .45 lying conspicuously by his right hand.

Heyes took a big sip of his coffee and set his mug down. "The way I see it, you've got a couple of choices. We can tie you up and leave you here to work your way loose sooner or later."

"Don't bother tryin' to follow us. We ain't leavin' a trail like you did," added the Kid.

Carl and Hal both enthusiastically nodded their agreement with this plan, but Will sat back and studied Heyes. "So what's the other choice?"

Heyes smiled back at him. "You join up with me and my gang."

Curry choked on the coffee he was swallowing. He coughed hard and rasped out, "What?!"

"And why'd I want to do that?"

"'Cause I'll make you rich and famous." Heyes crossed his arms smugly.

Will didn't answer right away, he weighed the choices, and then said, "Being rich don't matter none to me and famous is for damn fools lookin' to git their necks stretched. Me and the boys are doin' just fine on our own."

"Will, I…" began Carl, only to be silenced by the look his leader gave him. He glanced at Hal quickly and then looked down at the table as though the grain in the wood was mesmerizing.

Will leaned back in his chair. "Why would I sign up to ride with someone who'd risk his neck over an old hat and some boots? Seems to me you ain't as smart as you think you are, boy. I could've killed you easy twice over for followin' me."

The Kid snickered.

Will went on. "But I didn't. I took the money you cheated me out of and I took a few other things to teach you a lesson, but I didn't kill you."

"I don't cheat."

"Mister, no one's that good at poker."

"He is," said the Kid.

"Is that right?" Will smiled. "So maybe you didn't cheat us outright, but you made us think we were sittin' down with a greenhorn. That's almost the same as cheatin'. If'n you're so good at poker how come you have to pretend to be somebody else?" He sat back and looked Heyes up and down. "Hmm, could be you was worried 'bout someone recognizin' you. Maybe you're already so famous you don't need me."

"I can always use someone with your brains," said Heyes.

"No sir, you can't use me; I ain't robbin' and killin' for you and that's final."

"Will, I…"

"Shut up, Carl!"

"I don't allow killing in my gang, that's why you interest me."

Will re-focused his attention on Heyes. "Well then, that is a surprise; an outlaw leader who don't believe in killing. Yep, you sure are one of a kind, but I'm bettin' your own men will probably kill you for the fun of it before you can make me rich. Maybe even this fella." Will nodded at the Kid.

"Could happen," shrugged Curry.

"I'm offering you a job, Will. Do you want it or not?" said an exasperated Heyes.

"Not."

"Fine. We'll leave you here."

An hour later, Will slipped one bloody fist from the snug cloth holding him tight to a skinny pine. He made quick work of freeing Hal and then pulled Carl's gag before untying him.

"Do you know who that was?!" sputtered Carl .

"Yep."

"You do?"

"Yep, ain't too many rich and famous, poker-playin' outlaws in this neck of the woods; leastways, not with a partner who can shoot like that."

"If you knew who he was, why'd you talk to him like that? Curry could've killed you," said Hal.

Will smiled. "Nope, that's where you're wrong. Curry ain't no killer and neither is Heyes. Everyone knows that."

"I think maybe we should have ridden with them."

"Now, Carl, we had an agreement about that. I do the thinkin' in this gang."

"Yeah, but they really could've made us rich and famous," said Hal wistfully.

"And wanted for eight thousand dollars each," said Will. "Heyes can't even play a hand of poker without worryin' about bein' recognized. You want to live like that? Then go ahead and ride after them. Me, I'm happy bein' me. I got money in my pocket and food in my belly; why'd I want to go off and get famous? It don't look to me like it's worth it."

Once they'd given it some thought, Hal and Carl decided Will was right. A simple life was a gift.


End file.
